


Unavoidable

by Dissonance



Series: The Long-term Effects of Possession [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal actions, trigger warning, very minor comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissonance/pseuds/Dissonance
Summary: Stiles stood on the roof of the hospital, eyes narrowed as the wind threw his hair around. He sat, setting the bag of necessary supplies next to him, swinging his legs over the edge. His natural fluidity contrasted his expression - blank, desolate, guilty. He felt his breathing waver as he turned to the side, unzipping the duffel as slowly as possible, eyes still trained on the cars below. People walked in and out of those shining glass doors, completely unaware of the boy watching from above.A part of Stiles couldn't believe he was actually doing this. All the other parts of him were cheering him on.---In which Stiles believes the only way to make sure the Nogitsune never returns and hurts his friends again is to destroy its vessel.





	Unavoidable

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy!! my first tw fic

Stiles stood on the roof of the hospital, eyes narrowed as the wind threw his hair around. He sat, setting the bag of necessary supplies next to him, swinging his legs over the edge. His natural fluidity contrasted his expression - blank, desolate, guilty. He felt his breathing waver as he turned to the side, unzipping the duffel as slowly as possible, eyes still trained on the cars below. People walked in and out of those shining glass doors, completely unaware of the boy watching from above.

A part of Stiles couldn't believe he was actually doing this. All the other parts of him were cheering him on.

In the bag, his hand was met with a knife. A normal one, stolen from his kitchen back at home. It's thin, straight edges glinted in the dull moonlight. Stiles stared at it for a moment before rolling up the sleeve of his thin sweater, putting the blade to the side of his wrist. He'd never done this before, never had a reason to do it. Now, though, new reasons seemed to appear every other second.

Pushing down roughly, Stiles bit back a whimper, tears welling up in his eyes as he slide the knife across his skin. He pulled it away, breath hitching as for a moment, it seemed he hadn't done anything but make a small indent. But not even a second later, the blood started to pool, quickly like you poked a hole in a water balloon full of kool-aid. He felt the sides of his lips turn up at the comparison, but it was only bittersweet.

This was rewarding, in a way. Seeing the crimson liquid drip down his arm and onto the pavement so many stories below. He was bleeding for them. For the ones he killed. He wondered if anyone would notice, and the sillier part of him considered trying to aim the droplets onto people's heads. No, though, he wouldn't do that. This was not a joking matter. He was ending it, finally. Giving himself up at the place where he'd taken so many other lives.

On impulse, Stiles slipped the other sleeve up his arm, repeating his earlier actions with this wrist. The sting was unbearable for the moment it slid across the milky white skin, so _intense_ it felt like it was on fire, before he pulled the blade away and it all faded. Just a dull ache. _Not enough._

He made another mark. Then another. Five more on either arm, doubling it. His breathing pattern was irregular, but it wasn't due to an incoming panic attack like all those other times. Half of the Nogitsune was gone. The other half was still there, still Stiles, still _him._

He watched the blood trail down his arm with sickly interest. There was so much of it. It coated his skin like a fine layer of paint, flowing slowly but steadily before dripping down onto the post-rainy streets and mingling with oil-infused puddles. He closed his eyes, dreaming of a thin film of rainbow glittering madly across an ocean's surface, drips of red disturbing it but making it much more beautiful in the long run. The water would turn a sweet shade of pink, getting deeper with each pop of the blood hitting the waves, mixing and churning with a beautiful golden sunset illuminating the whole thing, soft white clouds-

" _Stiles!_ "

Stiles's eyes snapped open and he flung his head to the side, spotting Scott standing near the roof access door. Wood splinters littered the area around it, informing him that his barricade had failed to work. The two boys' eyes met, and Stiles swallowed, before looking back at his wrists. A flash of shame fluttered past his heart, but he pushed it down. This was for the greater good. Scott could _not_ stop him.

Speaking of Scott, the werewolf began to rush forward toward his friend, a crestfallen expression settled on his uneven jawed face. An overwhelming bout of just pure regret washed over him like the pink waters of his imaginary ocean as he grabbed the knife and held it against his own neck.

Scott stopped in his tracks.

"D-don't take one more step!" Stiles demanded tearfully, voice high strung. "Don't or I'll- or I'll-" His grip tightened on the smooth black hilt of the knife, melded to fit his fingers. He let his own eyes widen, a last ditch attempt to stop the tears running down his face. "I'll do it, Scott, I'll, I'll do it."

Scott held a hand out, a good ten feet away, not even within grabbing distance. Stiles was glad for that. "No, _Stiles,_ " came the boy's muffled reply. "Stiles come on, _no._ This isn't you."

Stiles shook his head, keeping a firm grasp on the knife and letting his free hand dig around in the duffel bag next to him. "I told you to wait down there," He murmured, warm brown eyes flickering toward the parking lot. "Why aren't you down there?"

Scott was almost hyperventilating as much as Stiles was, irises a crisp red, like the blood on his arms, staining his jeans and splattering on his shoes. "I saw- I could smell your.. your _blood,_ " The alpha, seeming so very powerless now, almost whispered. "Then I looked up, and.."

"And you saw me," Stiles finished, pulling a smaller knife out of the bag. This one was thick with serrated edges, used for cutting tough meats. He took in an unsteady breath, pressing the blade to an untouched patch of skin. "You saw me and you just- you just _had_ to come up here." His emotions overwhelming him, Stiles slashed the knife across his skin too quick, and let out a cry of pain. It wasn't a clean cut, no, it torn his skin as it went. Messy, and almost immediately blood started to pour out of the wound at twice the speed the other ones did. He threw the serrated knife to the side, dropping the largest one and hearing it clatter on the pavement below. He grasped his wrist, gasping at the sheer pain of it. It wasn't just a sting and then nothing, no, it got worse as time went on, the flames licking and eating away more and more flesh-

The echoing of shoes slamming on a concrete roof.

Stiles reached into the bag, only taking a split second to rip out his father's own gun. Stolen off his belt, hanging in his closet. He whipped around, standing on the edge of the roof before he aimed it at Scott. Then, as he realized his mistake and that his friend was a werewolf who could heal a bullet wound very easily, he aimed it at himself. Or, more specifically, his head.

" _Stiles, no,_ put it _down,_ " Scott coaxed, trying to squeeze the panic out of his voice. He was only three feet away, reaching distance. Stiles swallowed, blinking erratically and attempting to shuffle closer to the edge. "Stiles, it's not worth it, I promise, whatever's going on-"

" _Not worth it?_ " Stiles wondered aloud, his hands beginning to shake. "I'm _not worth it._ " He spat, imagining the bodies of innocent hospital staff lying deadly still in the sterile hallways, splattered with blood, and the deputy at the police department. Watching the light leave his eyes as the Nogitsune got what it wanted, preying on Scott's good natured soul. It was a painful sight. "I'm _dangerous_ , Scott. I killed all those people. I didn't even try to stop it, I-"

"You _couldn't_ stop it," Scott argued, eyes wide and pupils large. "It's not your fault, it's the Nogitsune's-"

"It _is_ my fault!" Stiles screamed back, feeling his body teeter a bit over the edge. He stumbled for a second, before regaining his balance. "All of this is _my_ fault! Allison, she's _dead_ because of _me_ and my _weaknesses_ , Aiden too. I took Ethan's other frickin' half and stabbed it through the chest, no wonder the guy left town! And your mom, I almost killed her too, and your dad, all because I was too damn _weak_ to resist a fucking-"

"Stiles," Scott's voice was calming, the alpha crouching down a bit to eliminate intimidation. "Your dad. How's your dad gonna feel when he, when he loses his son?" His eyes were flickering from Stiles's forearms and back to the gun. The cool barrel was held tightly against his temple, scarily comforting in the situation.

Something in Stiles's heart seemed to shift, and he found himself taking another deep, shaking breath. "I couldn't hurt anyone if I was _dead_ -"

"Stiles, you won't hurt anyone, the Nogitsune is trapped, gone-"

"But what if it isn't? I can have the possibility of more Allisons or Aidens. What if it's Kira next time? Malia? or-" and he feels his heart sink at this one, "Derek, huh? What if I just end up, _g-gutting_ him in his loft f-for you to find, and I go all crazy _again_ and I can't stop and then I go to Kira and then Malia and then your mom and dad-"

Scott is closer. A good foot closer. One swipe, and the gun would be flying down toward the parking lot in no time. Stiles jams it against his temple again, knowing a good bruise would be growing there.

"Stiles, you're not dangerous, or weak, or crazy or anything like that." The boy's voice is soft, inviting. It's almost enough to convince him. Stiles sniffles, finger on the trigger, knowing very well that gun was loaded and ready to be fired. "You're my best friend, Stiles. I couldn't stand to see you gone, okay? Even when you were taken over against your will, I couldn't stand to see you like that, man."

"But I caused all this.." Stiles muttered, almost incoherent. His hands were shaking violently, now, and he was loosing his grip on the gun. "I see him in my dreams, Scott, he's _here_." He looked up, broken, terrified eyes meeting Scott's steely determined ones. "He torments me whenever I sleep, whenever I even close my eyes. He's still here, Scott, he'll come back eventually."

"They're just nightmares," Scott insisted, eyes wide as he inched closer to Stiles. "Just nightmares. Nightmares are normal after a traumatic event, trust me."

Stiles could feel himself breaking. He didn't deserve to be there anymore, he needed to protect Scott and Derek and Kira and Malia and Lydia, even if it meant he'd have to end himself to do it. "They feel too real to just be nightmares," Stiles voice was small, too small. He let out one final sigh, making his decision. "I can't cause anyone else's death. I'm so sorry, Scott, but this is for the best." Stiles fumbled with the gun, and the shot went off, but not before Scott grabbed it, knocking it away from Stiles's head before it even got the chance to hit.

He's alive. He's alive. He can't be alive. Scott's strong, warm arms wrapped around his sickly thin, sleep-deprived body, pulling him into a tight embrace. The werewolf muttered apologies, reassuring words that seemed to calm Stiles down incredibly, but it might've just been the black veins snaking through the alpha's hands. Scott only hugged tighter after that, and Stiles started to feel the sobs wracking his body, both his and Scott's, mixing with the incoming sound of a police siren and the roof access door being thrown open.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just me venting and having personal experience with this type of "violence"  
> this is also a one shot, but I might make a series just cause I love this stuff  
> just like tell me if you'd want it


End file.
